


As if you were on fire from within (The moon lives in the lining of your skin)

by Charlie_Bb



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: AU, Also fluff, Anxiety, Anxiety Attacks, Derek also likes to take the guys on tour, Derek also won't admit he spends too much time staring at Stiles's ink, Derek doesn't want to manage those kids, Derek is a great manager, Derek wants to help Stiles with anxiety, Derek won't admit he likes The Beacons, I PROMISE THERE WILL BE A HAPPY ENDING, Laura is a horrible person and makes him, M/M, The Beacons go on tour, The guys are actually not that bad, alternative universe, bandmates, but first a bit of angst?, guitarist!stiles, live shows, singer!Scott, tour bus fluff, tour bus life
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-08-20
Updated: 2018-04-01
Packaged: 2018-12-17 20:40:34
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 10,502
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11859270
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Charlie_Bb/pseuds/Charlie_Bb
Summary: “Derek Hale,” Laura shouts and he knows that’s never a good sign. Still, he doesn’t stop walking to the door. “You’re gonna be those guys’ manager whether you like it or not. They need you, and I need you to do it. I wouldn’t trust anyone else but you with this.”Derek waves his hand at her as he walks out her office and he really, really hopes she’s not going to make him do it. A tiny part of him knows he’s wrong of course, but he’ll just ignore that little shit for now.*Or, the one in which Derek is forced to manage a band and kinda falls for ink-covered guitarist. Badly.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Valyyy_chan](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Valyyy_chan/gifts).



> So... I'm back with a Sterek. 
> 
> This is still a WIP, but I am approaching the ending. I first started writing it as a Christmas gift for my lovely friend; Christmas turned to Valentine's day, then to Easter, and to my friend's birthday...
> 
> ...and I'm still not done with it. Almost, but not quite. 
> 
> So, yeah. Sorry Val if this is taking so long, and, uhm, happy birthday? Like a month late, but hey, can't be perfect all the time. 
> 
> Back to this work, here. Bit of fluff, bit of stupidity, some angst here and there. Bands on tour are kind of a fav for me, so tour life and live shows and all that. I also loved the idea of Derek as a manager, and here it is. 
> 
> AU, so Laura is still alive, but the Hale family is still dead. 
> 
> I hope I didn't mess too much with the tags, will correct if needed. Unbeta'd, so the mistakes are all mine. 
> 
> The title is from Pablo Neruda, can't remember from which poem exactly. 
> 
> Oh, and if there's anyone out there who would like to draw ink-covered!Stiles, pleasepleaseplease let me know. 
> 
> I'll leave you to it, hope you enjoy.
> 
> xx
> 
>  
> 
> Ps: this fanfiction is dedicated to a friend, and in gifting it it went to another profile. Thanks to val (the one I don't know!) for giving me a heads up! Since you're a Sterek fan, I really hope you enjoy this!

“Why am I doing this again?”

He looks at the girl sitting behind the desk and sighs heavily. How is it even possible he’s the one who gets screwed every time some shitty job opens?

“Because you want to?” Laura Hale slowly asks but no, she knows too well he doesn’t want to. He wouldn’t even _like_ to do it, or think of it; still, she begs to differ.

“I don’t wanna babysit those kids for you, Laura.” Derek pours himself a cup of coffee and gets back to his seat in front of his sister. He gives her an annoyed look and she has the decency to look at least a bit sorry about the whole thing.

“They’re not kids,” she quickly replies and seriously? Derek should know better. “They’re all twenty-one, so they’re pretty much adults.”

“It’s that _pretty much_ that worries me,” Derek sighs as he sips his hot black coffee. He loves his job, Laura knows it well; he just doesn’t like to deal with kids – and those, oh well, those _are_ kids, no matter their age. Twenty-one years old is still something Derek remembers – he’s only in his late 20s after all, a bit closer to his 30s, but still. He remembers perfectly what it feels like being considered young adults by the society, he remembers it so well he’s positive he doesn’t want to deal with those guys _at all_. They’re still young and probably hyperactive, overexcited about their brand new contract with the label, and honestly? Thanks, but no thanks, Derek has other projects he would love to work on right now. So, yeah. No babysitting.

“Look,” Laura says interrupting his stream of thoughts. “Just meet them, okay? You’re gonna like them, a lot. They’re smart, and they make great music. We’ve been lucky enough to find them before someone else did, now they only need someone like you to guide them into this brand new shiny world that is the music industry.”

“Who’s the one who found them?” Derek abruptly asks and Laura looks confused for a moment when she uncertainly replies, “Greengberg.”

“Then Greengberg is the guy you’re looking for,” Derek says as he leaves his mug on the glass table and stands up. He tilts his head at his older sister and turns his back on her. “Wish him good luck for me.”

“Derek Hale,” Laura shouts and he knows that’s never a good sign. Still, he doesn’t stop walking to the door. “You’re gonna be those guys’ manager whether you like it or not. They need you, and I need you to do it. I wouldn’t trust anyone else but you with this.”

Derek waves his hand at her as he walks out her office and he really, really hopes she’s not going to make him do it. A tiny part of him knows he’s wrong of course, but he’ll just ignore that little shit for now.

 

*

 

The Hale Records Ind. is as busy as ever on Saturday afternoons; people run in every direction, managers walk down the corridors always talking into their earpieces, folders in their hands and meetings to attend to. Janitors try to do their job but find it hard and fail eventually; poor interns feel terribly awkward and spend the rest of their day hiding in empty rooms or dark corners.

It’s something past five p.m. when Derek Hale, senior manager and co-founder of the Hale Records Ind., walks in through the glass door and heads to the first floor where he’ll find Laura’s office. He looks like it’s one of those days, so people just run away as soon as they spot him walking in their general direction; everybody at the label knows Derek Hale, and everybody feels the urge to run and hide as they catch a glimpse of him.

He’s not this horrible guy, he just has a temper. Quite a terrible one on a good day.

“What the hell –“ Derek slams the door open and Laura looks up from the papers she’s reading, an eyebrow elegantly raised at him in a silent question. “What the hell are you doing?”

“Working, maybe?” she innocently replies – which is only going to get Derek madder than ever. She just can’t help it, though. He clumps to her desk and thumps his fists on the glass table.

“I told you I wasn’t gonna babysit those kids.”

“And I told you I need you for this job,” she smiles at him amiably. “Which reminds me – they’re waiting for you in the practice room upstairs.”

“I’m already managing a band,” he hisses and almost snaps when she gives him another bright smile. “Laura, I like those guys, okay? I like working with them, I like their music. I don’t need a boyband and I don’t want it.”

“Too bad, bro. I already assigned Dave and the others to Lydia,” Laura explains and she gets on her feet to reach him. She takes his hand and walks him out of her office before he can destroy anything. “Look, I know you’re gonna hate me forever, but those guys really need someone like you, and believe me when I say they’re gonna make us rich.”

“I don’t care about – “

“You should,” Laura cuts him off and glances at him. “Der, you know we’re not doing great at the moment. We need something to get us back on our feet and that band is exactly it. I don’t want anyone to ruin this project, and I certainly don’t want to shut everything down for bankrupt, so here’s the deal: you’re gonna be their manager for their first tour, a year tops, then you’ll go back to whatever band you want to work with and we’ll all be happy in the end.”

Derek growls but he knows Laura’s already won. They all want the Hale Records Ind. to keep working, and he knows too well how close they are to lose everything; he just doesn’t think it’s fair for him to give up a project he actually likes, that’s all.

One year, only one year. He just hopes those guys are really worth it.

 

*

 

The practice room the band is waiting in is one of Derek’s favorites; it’s the bigger they have, for a starter, and there are a couple of comfortable leather sofas while the wooden floor is covered in colored rugs. Amplifiers and wires occupy the room altogether with a brand new drum set and few guitars the label offers to their pupils for practice. Musicians usually bring their own instruments, but you never know when you might need a spare guitar.

The words _boy band_ immediately come to Derek’s mind as he walks in the room and spots four guys inside. Two of them are twins – identical twins, they look exactly the same and Derek already knows they’re gonna give him headaches; another one looks like this giant puppy, all big chocolate eyes and bright smiles. The fourth guy is a bit skinny and Derek immediately notices his arms – colored in ink; he maybe gets a bit hypnotized by all those tattoos, but that’s just because he’s got a few himself and well, drawings on skin are always hypnotizing to him.

Laura clears her throat as she enters the room and pinches Derek on the arm to get his attention as well.

“Guys,” she calls out and the four stop doing whatever it was they were doing to look at her. “This is Derek. Derek, this is the band.”

“ _The Beacons_ ,” the puppy corrects her with a smile as he leaves his guitar on the sofa and walks towards them. “I’m Scott,” he says reaching out his hand to Derek. “They’re the twins, Ethan and Aiden.” The guys both tilt their head at Derek without abandoning their seats, “And this is Stiles.”

The skinny tattooed guy briefly looks at him and Derek nods in some sort of greeting.

“Cool,” Laura smiles patting Derek on his shoulder. “I’ll leave you guys some time to get to know each other. Derek, I’ll see you later in my office. I’m gonna deal with the technicalities while you spend some time with the guys.”

Derek scowls at her but doesn’t reply. When Laura walks out of the room Scott drags him to the sofa, offers him something to drink (which he refuses) and asks if he’d like to listen to their music, maybe (which Derek agrees to only because he at least needs to know the band a bit if he’s going to be their manager).

 

*

 

“So?” Laura asks him when Derek walks into her office and sits right in front of her.

“So they’re good,” he admits and accepts the cup of coffee she’s offering. “They’re young.”

“You say it as if it was a bad thing,” she mocks him with a smile. “They’re not that much younger than you, Der-bear. Besides, I think their music is something people are gonna like; they’re fresh and inexperienced, yes, but I really think they have potential.”

“You wouldn’t have contracted them otherwise,” Derek adds and yeah, he can see now why Laura wants them so badly. They’re good; they lack of experience and technique, but they have the energy and the good will to make it. And they’re not that much of the boy band he expected. Their music varies from pop to rock, they use guitars and bass but add the piano sometimes, a bit of electro music here and there, a mouth organ even.

“So you like them,” Laura talks on and she’s wearing her brightest smile ever.

“Don’t push it.”

 

*

 

Truth is, Derek likes _The Beacons_ pretty well.

Scott is this kind of exuberant teenager with the biggest eyes ever, he looks excited about making music and making a living out of it is something he’d never expected. The twins are funnier than Derek had first thought, all stupid jokes and smiles, always hugging each other and playing for the joy of it.

Stiles is different.

He’s this hyperactive skinny guy, all incoherent moves when he plays the guitar and backs Scott up with the singing, playing pranks on his band mates and laughing his ass off. But sometimes, when he’s playing all alone or when no one’s around to look at him, he stops paying attention to the world around him and slips away in a world of his own.

Derek doesn’t know where Stiles goes then, but he knows it’s some place far far away where nothing can reach him. And if he studies him for the few days they spend rehearsing at the studio, well, there’s nothing wrong with that. He’s his manager, he needs to know what he’s dealing with after all.

 

*

 

It’s on a lazy, warm Sunday morning Derek realizes he’s paying way too much attention at Stiles’ tattoos. He’s studying them, and well, that’s what he usually does with tattoos but – but this time maybe it’s a bit different. This time he finds himself wondering the meanings of them all and, yeah, maybe he’s showing a bit too much interest.

It’s just – Stiles’ tattoos are something Derek can’t stop looking at. The intricate drawings and colors twisting on his arms, words coming out of his tee sleeves, well, Derek likes it. A lot. Sometimes, when Stiles is playing and not paying any attention to him, sometimes Derek just stares at the ink and colors and words trying to figure out everything, every shade in every dark spot, every feeling in every word.

As the days go by it becomes a bit of a game for him, looking at Stiles’ skin when _The Beacons_ are rehearsing in the studio and the four of them are so focused on their music they don’t even notice what’s happening all around them. There’s the “ _ever_ ” coming out of Stiles’ shoulder and that could be something like “ _forever_ ” as far as Derek knows, or maybe it’s a “ _never_ ” and the N is just hidden somewhere Derek can’t see it; there’s that green leaf on Stiles’ bicep and Derek can see the drawing going back under his shirt and who knows, maybe there’s a flower hidden somewhere on his chest.

Then there’s one of Derek’s favorites, the claw marks on Stiles’ neck, coming out of his t-shirt and ripping his throat out in black and red ink, shades of a half healed wound, and Derek doesn’t really know why someone would get something like that tattooed on his neck, but still. It looks good on Stiles.

 

*

 

When _The Beacons_ start recording their first, glorious album Derek feels a little bid proud of them.

True, he’s been their manager for only a few weeks now but he can honestly say he knows those guys enough to feel good for them. They deserve it, they deserve it all – the recordings, their first engagements and live shows, the screaming fans and crazy fangirls.

Truth is, they’re good. They’re more than good, they’re absolutely _great_ , and the world is going to love them so much.

Not that he will ever tell Laura any of that.

 

*

 

When his phone buzzes repeatedly on a Saturday night Derek picks it with a sigh and leaves his beer on the coffee table. He reads the number on the display and doesn’t recognize it, but he recognizes the voice at the end of the line almost immediately as he picks up.

_“I think I’m drunk. No. I know I am. And I have no idea where to find a taxi and –“_

“Where are you?” Derek asks as he pinches the base of his nose with two tired fingers. Stiles mumbles something, then sighs and laughs out loud.

_“Er, I don’t know? I’m pretty sure it’s downtown, but I guess I’m too drunk to –“_

“Tell me what you see,” Derek cuts him off and he’s already putting his leather jacket on as Stiles reads names of clubs for him. Stiles keeps on babbling incoherent words as Derek gets to his car and drives off the alley into the main road that will take him downtown. The traffic is kind of horrible on a Saturday night and it takes Derek almost fifty stupid minutes to get to one of Los Angeles’ most popular streets.

He parks the car and doesn’t think about how much that little stop will cost him, and Stiles is still babbling at the phone when Derek finally gets to that stupid club where too many people are hanging out at. It’s not that he doesn’t like going out or crowded places, he’s just the pub kind of guy – no clubbing, no stupid music, only few beers and bands playing live.

 _“I mean, you’re our manager,”_ Stiles is mumbling when Derek spots a red hoodie in the crowd. “ _Am I not supposed to call you in times like this?”_

“You are,” Derek growls as he finally reaches the stupid kid and picks him up from the ground where he was sitting. “That doesn’t mean I’m supposed to run to save your tattooed ass.”

Stiles makes this funny face as he holds on to Derek’s shoulders and he looks a bit confused when he asks, “How do you know my ass is tattooed?”

“Is it?”

“Nope,” Stiles smiles and he smells like alcohol, which is something Derek doesn’t really like much. “But I’m gonna get it tattooed ASAP.”

Derek shakes his head as he carries Stiles to his car and throws him in the passenger seat; he leaves some money at the valet, enough to cover a more than generous tip, then gets in the car and starts the engine. It’s a Saturday night and what is he doing?

Babysitting the kid. Exactly what he _didn’t want to do_.

Not that he had glorious plans for his evening, relaxing at home with a beer and some music sounded more than fine by him, still this doesn’t feel right. It doesn’t feel right spending the night talking stupid Stiles out of his even stupider booze.

“So,” Stiles says after a few minutes of silence, the Camaro roaring softly beneath them. “Were you doing something nice? Maybe you were out on a date. Of course you were on a date, stupid me! Did I ruin it? Because I didn’t mean to, you know. I’m so sorry I ruined your date –“

“You didn’t,” Derek mutters and doesn’t look at him when he adds, “I wasn’t on a date, so you didn’t ruin it.”

“Oh.” Stiles looks surprised, his mouth slightly open, his eyes big and shiny with alcohol. “How come?”

“What?” Derek asks as he looks at the kid briefly. He knows Stiles has passed his twenty already, still it feels like he’s a kid, he’s young and he may be as stupid as the others sometimes, but Stiles also looks innocent, no matter all of the tattoos he’s going to get.

“How come you weren’t out on a date.”

“I wasn’t.”

“Yeah, we covered that part already,” Stiles says waving a bony finger in his face. Derek slaps it away and focuses back on the road. “I’m just wondering why you didn’t have a date on a Saturday night. It’ weird.”

“It isn’t.”

“It is,” Stiles talks on and he looks a bit offended now, as if Derek had said something horrible about him. Which Derek didn’t, and there’s no logical reason for Stiles to look offended like this.

“You’re like super –“ Stiles freezes for a moment, as if he’s realized there’s something terribly wrong with the whole thing, then shakes his head and gets back to the point. “You’re smoking hot,” he says. “And that’s a fact. It’s just weird you didn’t have anyone to spend time with on a weekend night.”

“I date my work,” Derek says and maybe he laughs a bit in the darkness of the vehicle, because that’s kind of true; he hasn’t dated anyone in months, busy as he was working his ass off for the sake of his label. And tonight, well. Tonight he’s driving Stiles somewhere he can fill the kid up with hot steaming coffee in order to get him sober again, and maybe sharing a coffee on a Saturday night might be considered as a date. Only, this is not the case.

“Cool, so you can date me,” Stiles cheerfully says and that’s something Derek wasn’t really expecting. He doesn’t turn to look at him, but he’s pretty sure Stiles is smilingly stupidly in the dark. He can feel it.

“I’m your manager,” Derek says in a low, dark voice.

“And I’m your work,” Stiles replies and he sounds less cheerful now, but his voice is firm and steady. “Look, I –“

“I’ll get you a coffee and I’ll drive you home.” Derek pulls over in front of a café open 24/7 and gets out of the car so fast he doesn’t give Stiles time to reply.

He gets into the café and orders two black coffees, takeaway, and glances at the car as he waits for his orders to be ready.

Stiles is young. He’s just beginning his career in the music industry, he and _The Beacons_ will rock the world with their music and so much more interesting stuff will follow. Laura’s already planning future interviews, contacting directors to shoot their first music video, preparing the ground to launch the band into the big, scary world outside the comfort of their recording rooms.

Stiles is also incredibly beautiful and Derek knows that if they hadn’t met like this he would’ve probably brought him home and spent the night with him. Derek knows he would’ve asked Stiles out on a date, and on another and another one more, and they would’ve talked about music and laughed so much, because Stiles is this brilliant guy with an awesome sense of humor.

But Derek doesn’t think about what could’ve been. Stiles is part of his job, nothing more than that.

 

*

_The Beacons_ finish recording their second track on a Friday night and they’re so excited they cannot just keep it quiet. Scott is hugging pretty much everyone, his band mates and Laura and Derek and the techs as well; Ethan and Aiden start celebrating with a couple of beers, mobiles in their hands, recording the moment for future entertainment.

Stiles listens to the recorded track with a smile on his face and when he puts the headphones down on the table he jumps on Scott, collapsing on the floor and keeping Scott down just to tickle him for everybody’s fun.

Ethan films everything as Aiden joins the two rolling on the rug and Laura’s laughing her ass off, and maybe Derek is smiling a bit.

He and Stiles never talked about what happened few weeks before and things went back to normal, and if Stiles looks at Derek more frequently than he should, well, that’s not a big deal. They’re cool, the talk in the car faded as the memory of a dream in the morning, and maybe Derek still stares at Stiles’ tattoos from time to time but that’s okay. It’s just the ink calling out for him.

 

*

 

It takes months for the album to get ready, all the tracks perfectly recorded and sketches of the covers ready to be picked.

In the end,  _The Beacons_ choose one of Derek and Laura’s favorites: a black view of a coastline at night with a green-ish flashing light on the back, a beacon lighting the way for the sailors’ sake. It’s nice, maybe a bit darker than they all imagined, but it feels good to look at and Derek thinks it’s oddly familiar, quiet and peaceful. It almost feels like home, like that small town Derek and Laura left years and years before to join the chaotic city of the angels.

When the band suggests they all go out for a drink, their brand new CD in their shaking hands, Laura refuses in favor of all the work she needs to take care of; when Scott trustfully turns to Derek he just shakes his head and tells the big puppy he’s going to help Laura with a few things.

He doesn’t listen to Ethan and Aiden’s objections and mostly Derek ignores Stiles’ look as he pats Scott on the back and tells them all he’s going to meet them on Monday to talk about some important details regarding their first tour.

When Scott finally lets the others drag him out of the practice room, Derek relaxes on the sofa and hugs his sister when she sits down next to him. Laura’s still smiling, happy and proud, and Derek knows exactly how she feels. He feels it, too.

“Still pissed at me for assigning you to them?” she asks teasing him with an annoying finger and Derek pushes her away. “You like them, admit it!”

“I told you I like them, like months ago,” he replies and sighs when she curls up next to him, close and familiar like all the nights they slept together when they were kids. “Alzheimer already, big sis?”

Laura punches him in his ribs and Derek holds a grunt, scowling at her only to watch her laugh at him.

“Are you ready for the tour?” she asks in a more serious voice and Derek shrugs.

“Think so.”

“You’ll do great,” Laura softly smiles. “Just try to keep them under control. It’s their first tour, I don’t want them to fuck things up so soon.”

“I have a feeling they won’t,” Derek lets out. “And anyway, you made sure I’ll be there to prevent any chaos, so.”

Laura lets out a soft, tired laugh and closes her eyes. Derek waits patiently as she shifts in his arms until she finds a more comfortable position, then lets her even breath lull him into a state of deep relax.

They keep in a familiar silence for a while, neither wanting to move, both just enjoying the moment before going back to reality, and work, and more work.

Derek smiles and places a soft kiss on his sister’s head, and when he tries to stand he finds her deep asleep already. So he relaxes back on the couch and doesn't move as outside the light slowly leaves room for a complete darkness.

 

*

 

Monday comes, and the planning starts.

Derek finds himself stressing over so many things - contacting venues everywhere to ensure _The_ _Beacons_ a gig, selling the band out for the sake of live shows, renting a bus big enough to fit all of them as they travel across a few of the States - and has almost no time to talk to the band. At least Laura is taking care of interview planning, something she knows he loathes deeply.

As Derek walks through the corridors, he sees Stiles in one of the practice rooms, from behind a glass window. He is absently playing his guitar, lost in a world of his own, and Derek can’t help but wonder now what the world actually is. Is it Stiles’ happy place? Is it something like a safe haven? Maybe it has something to do with his tattoos, Derek thinks.

And maybe it’s none of his business.

Derek jumps out of his thoughts and shakes his head, as to push them away, and resumes his journey to Laura’s office to update her on what he’s got so far.

 

*

 

 _The_ _Beacons_ will go to a band retreat, or that’s what Laura has called it.

 _It’ll do them good_ , she’d said. _Give them some time to relax before the tour starts._

She has a point, and Derek finds himself agreeing with her. When he delivers the news, Scott’s puppy face lights up as his lips stretch in the biggest smile ever. His excitement is barely containable, and Derek can’t help but smile at him.

Ethan and Aidan look ecstatic, and immediately start on planning their vacation activities - which will include drinking, and playing, and drinking again. Eating, too, and maybe some movies. Derek feels a huge headache coming, and mentally takes note of checking on the guys more frequently than previously planned.

Stiles smiles, but more as a result of Scott’s contagious energy, and Derek maybe gives him a sympathetic look.

 

*

 

When his mobile buzzes insistently on a Sunday morning, Derek grunts and shifts in bed, pushing a pillow to his face in a vane attempt to ignore it.

Of course it doesn’t work, and the buzz becomes so insufferable Derek grabs his phone with a little more violence than intended.

“‘the fuck do you want,” he mutters into the line. Laura’s breath is short and accelerated, which alone means nothing good. When she speaks, then, Derek rolls his eyes to the ceiling.

“It’s the driver, Derek,” Laura says. “I don’t know what the hell happened, but he’s not coming and I have no idea how to take the boys to the cabin.”

“Take your car,” he suggests, hoping that could be enough even if he knows it won’t. Laura’s jeep is not big enough to fit the band and whatever bags they decided to bring along for that little vacation.

“Thanks, Captain Obvious,” she mutters into the line. “Not big enough. Please come help me? With my car and yours, we can take the boys there in one trip only.”

Derek sighs, already missing the warmth of his bed. He looks outside the window and the light of day hits him; the sky is of a clear blue and from what he can see, it looks like one of the most beautiful days Los Angeles has to offer.

So he pushes the sheets away and sits on the bed, his hopes of a nice Sunday spent home now shattered like glass.

“Fine,” he says. “I’ll be there in thirty.”

He doesn't even wait for Laura to say something - to thank him, probably - and hangs up. Yawning, he stands and walks, barefooted and dressed only in a pair of boxers, to the kitchen; he puts the coffee machine to work and jumps in the shower to wash away any residue of sleep from his body.

When he walks back in the kitchen, dressed in a pair of jeans and an old t-shirt, the familiar aroma of grounded beans invades the room and he breathes it in. He fills in his travel cup, grabs a jacket, his car keys, and walks outside, to the parking lot.

The air is nice and warm, and Derek sighs, more than a little annoyed.

 

*

 

The Camaro comes to a halt in front of the recording studios around forty minutes later. Derek turns the engine off, adjusts his dark shades up his nose and jumps off the car, banging the door shut.

Outside the studios, the band and Laura are already waiting for him. The twins are lively arguing while Scott shakes his head and doesn’t hide a grin. Stiles, on the other hand, seems immune to their bickering and sits alone, a carton cup in his hands.

“You’re late.”

“Got stuck in traffic.”

Derek takes his shades off and looks at his sister walking towards him. She looks a little tired, and maybe a little grumpy, but he can’t really blame her - Sunday is her day off, too.

“So, what’s the deal?” he asks, and Laura gives a quick look to the band, a few feet from them, before returning her gaze to him.

“I’d hired a van and a driver, everything was set, the boys were ready to go and then, bam!, the company called and said there’s been an accident, they’re terribly sorry, yadda yadda.”

“Fine. So, your car and mine?”

Laura nods and gives him a sincere smile.

“Thanks, bro.”

Derek nods at her and doesn’t say a word. He gives his sister a sympathetic look, feeling her disappointment and tiredness on his own skin; they get one day off, _one_ , and having to babysit the band is definitely not what either of them dreamed of doing.

As he walks to the band, the boys turn to him with big smiles on their faces. Scott pretty much jumps on him and hugs him, telling him how happy he is to see him - and Derek kinda gets it, really. Scott is this big, adorable guy who seems to love everyone, he’s just wired that way. Derek doesn’t understand the loving everyone part, that feels just _wrong_ , but he gets Scott is just like that, and there’s no changing him.

Ethan and Aiden welcome him with a bro fist that he reciprocates out of habit, and Stiles nods in his general direction without actually standing up. Instead, the kid keeps on drinking his coffee in religious silence, and who knows, maybe he’s just sleepy, maybe he’s not really a morning person.

Correction, Stiles is definitely _not_ a morning person, now that Derek comes to think of it. Every time _The_ _Beacons_ had morning practice, Stiles got there late and in a crappy mood. Derek gets it, really, he doesn’t like mornings either.

“Everybody ready to go?” he asks, and eyes the bags and instruments that lay on the ground. Guitars lay in their cases, and from a look at one big, hard case at the foot of the stairs Derek suspects Aiden has decided to bring his electric drums, too.

“We were born ready!” Scott laughs, and he picks up one of the bags from the ground. The twins do the same, and give him and Laura an excited look.

Laura rolls her eyes at them all, but Derek knows her too well to miss the little, almost invisible smile she’s trying to hide.

“Alright, Scott and one of the twins come with me,” she says as she opens the trunk of her jeep and helps them put the bags in. “I call Ethan, he’s a little less hyperactive than his evil twin.”

Ethan laughs out loud while Aiden looks offended, and obviously decides to punch him hard in the arm. Before they can engage in one of their small fights, Derek grabs Aiden by the hem of his shirt and pushes him towards the Camaro.

Stiles finally stands up. He grabs a small bag and one of the guitar cases, then walks to the car in silence.

“I call shotgun,” he says as he reverently puts the guitar in the trunk.

“Oh, man, come on! I’m taller than you! I don’t wanna sit in the back,” laments Aiden, but before he can complain any longer Stiles is already taking possession of the front passenger seat.

Derek shakes his head, then puts his seat up so that Aiden can get in the back of the car.

“You always sit in the back,” Stiles says, and for the first time that day Derek sees him grinning. “No biggie.”

As Derek puts the seat back and gets in the car, he hears Laura’s engine turning on. He’s fastening his seatbelt when she pulls up alongside him, looking at him through the car window.

“We’re heading to Topanga. I got the address,” she says, and of course she does. She’s the one who has orchestrated that little getaway. “I’ll lead the way, try to keep up.”

“As if.”

Derek turns the engine on and the Camaro roars beneath him, stealing one amazed sigh from Aiden. He smirks at his sister and makes the engine roar even louder, just to piss her off a little.

Laura shakes his head in exasperation. She turns her eyes to the road and drives away, into Los Angeles’ horrific traffic.

“Hey, how about some music?” Aidan proposes, and Derek nods.

“Sure. Driver picks up the music, though.”

“And shotgun shuts his cake-hole?” Stiles asks with a grin, relaxing back on his seat.

“What?”

“Supernatural,” Aiden says. “The TV show?”

Derek shakes his head. “Never heard of it.”


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So... second chapter here!  
> The story is finished (can't believe it), so you guys will have seven more chapters after this.  
> Hope you enjoy it, and remember that your comments always make my day! :)

Topanga is only forty minutes away, it shouldn’t be too hard to get there.

Shouldn’t, because Laura sucks at following simple GPS instructions, and Derek already knows they will if not get lost, at least end up taking impossibly long shortcuts and get to the cabin later than expected.

The drive is nice, though. He loves sitting in his car, feeling her roaring gently beneath him; he loves watching the road shifting outside the window - streets, and buildings, smaller buildings, parks - until he gets to the highway. Then it’s all just… it’s just so smooth, and quiet, and maybe the sun is shining a little too bright for his taste, but that’s okay.

He had always known Los Angeles wouldn’t be anything like home. When he had moved there, something like ten years earlier, he had felt like he didn’t belong, like the City of the Angels was always too sunny, too shiny, too _perfect._ It wasn’t anything like home - like that small town buried in the hills, surrounded by the woods he’d grown up in. The air wasn’t as chilly as it was back in Beacon Hills, and the people weren’t as nice. Friendly, yes, but in a big city kind of way, nothing to do with the comfortable warmth that only people in a small town can give.

Derek still misses home, every day. He got used to Los Angeles, he has a great job and a very nice apartment, which is more than other people can say. He’s lucky, he knows that. But.

But he still dreams of Beacon Hills. Not every night, not as often as he used to, but the smells and sights from his hometown still hunt him from time to time.

He hasn't gone back there, not once, since he and Laura have moved to Los Angeles.

He has _thought_ of going back, maybe for a day or two - Beacon Hills is just a three hours drive away, really not that far - but every time the thought has crossed his mind, his heart has squeezed painfully in his chest and the memories, the _horrors_ , have come back to haunt him down.

“Everything okay, sour-man?”

Stiles’ voice brings him back to reality and Derek shakes his head, pushing his thoughts away.

“What did you just call me?”

“Sour-man,” Stiles says with a shrug. “Because, you know. You’re a little sour. Don’t smile much.”

Aiden laughs in the backseat, but stops immediately when Derek glares at him.

“I do smile,” he says glancing at Stiles before turning his eyes back to the road. “And I’m not sour.”

“If you say so.”

Stiles shrugs again as if he couldn't care less whether Derek was or was not sour, and then turns his attention to the radio. The Smiths are playing, but Stiles doesn’t seem to like them much; he puts his bony finger to work the radio stations until he finds something that he likes, and Derek isn’t surprised when _November rain_ comes through the speakers.

“You like Guns’n’Roses but not the Smiths?” he asks, already knowing the answer to his question. He shakes his head, but doesn't change the channel.

“I like this song,” Stiles says. He looks out the window, immersed once again in his own world. “I miss the rain. It rains a lot back home, and the smell… I miss that too.”

Derek nods briefly, and vaguely notices Aidan doesn’t seem to share that little bit of sadness Stiles is overwhelmed with.

“Yeah, I feel ya. I miss it, too.”

The sadness - no, the _nostalgia_ invades the car, thick and heavy, and Derek is so used to it he doesn't even mind that much anymore. He is used to having a hole in his chest, to the quiet, deaf pain drumming inside of him. He’s learnt to deal with it - or, well, he’s learnt to _live_ with it, which is a bit different, but it’s the only thing that works. Dealing with what has happened to his family is something he will never learn to do.

Derek shoots Stiles a sidelong glance and finds him still lost in thoughts. He wonders if the kid is still thinking of the rain. He also wonders what the rain looks like, in whatever place Stiles is from. He wonders if Stiles has ever walked outside while it was pouring, if he’s ever stared outside the windows for hours, just listening to the rhythmic noise.

As silence reins in the car, the highway outside shifts and changes before their eyes. The hot asphalt becomes a city street as they leave the highway and take a turn left, driving right into the heart of Topanga.

The city looks nice, all clean streets and busy people going up and down the road. It takes them a little while to cross it entirely, but the traffic is not as bad as it is in Los Angeles, so they get to the crossroad they were looking for not fifteen minutes later. From there, they take a turn right and follow an unpaved road all the way up the hill.

The view is better there, different from the chaotic city center in Los Angeles. The hills are green, just barely stained in the brownish color of dead trees and leaves. The air is cleaner, a little sharper maybe than it is in the city, and Derek smiles at the small woods they drive by. It reminds him of home.

 

*

 

The retreat is taking place in a cabin. A real one, made out of thick wood, and Derek has no idea how Laura has managed to find it.

That, too, reminds him of home, of the very house he and his family used to live in before the tragic accident that had shocked their life forever, scarring him and Laura and their uncle way beyond repair.

On the front there is a spacious porch where a porch swing has been positioned on one side. It’s exactly like the one they had back in Beacon Hills, and Derek remembers how he and Laura used to sit out there for hours, even after dark. They loved it.

“I knew you’d like it,” Laura whispers into his ear, and Derek shivers. He brushes his shoulder against hers, softly.

They stare at the cabin for a moment while the boys unload the car, and when they hear footsteps approaching, Laura grabs a pair of keys from her pocket. She jumps up the few steps that lead to the porch and unlock the front door, walking inside.

Scott and the twin walk past Derek really quickly, all big excited smiles and a bright light in their eyes. Derek can imagine how they feel - lucky, and grateful for the great opportunities they are being given. He is happy for them, genuinely happy, because he knows how much they deserve all that.

Stiles stops by his side and admires the cabin for a moment, something indecipherable hiding behind his hazelnut eyes.

“You like it?” Derek asks, and Stiles jumps out of his thoughts to give him a little smile.

“Yeah. I do.”

Derek stares while he walks in the house, and can’t help but wonder what’s with the kid. Stiles has been hyperactive since day one, and Derek thinks that’s just how he rolls really, but now he seems different. He spends more and more time in his own world, for instance; and there are times when he has this sad look on his face, and Derek doesn’t know what to think. He has no idea if there’s anything bothering him, if it has to do with his past or maybe with something happening now.

Or maybe, maybe that’s just how Stiles _is_. Nobody can be hyperactive, or happy, or euphoric all the time. And Stiles, Stiles is an _artist_ , he’s not a guy like any other. Artists tend to live in a world of their own more often than not, so that shouldn't really be surprising. It’s just -

“You coming?”

Derek looks at his sister, standing on the doorframe, and catches up in a few quick steps.

The first thing he notices is that the cabin is entirely made of wood, even on the inside. He’s always liked wood cabins, there’s something about them - an air of coziness or familiarity he can’t exactly explain.

The living room is big enough to fit a small party, the kitchen clean and tidy. Derek doesn’t miss Laura’s smile and he follows her upstairs, where the band is already settling down.

There are something like five good-sized bedrooms, and one smaller guest room with a sofa bed.

“I think they like it,” Laura laughs as she spots Scott euphorically jumping on a bed. He looks like a kid, a grown, happy kid with impossibly bright puppy eyes, and Derek can’t help but grin at him.

Ethan and Aiden are fighting - _of course -_ to decide who gets the room with the most beautiful view, and Derek walks past them shaking his head. Instead, he stops by Stiles’ bedroom door and finds him staring out the window.

Stiles seems to sense his presence, somehow, and turns to look at him. He is smiling, a sincerely happy smile that Derek can’t help but reciprocate, and tilts his head at him, as to invite him to get closer. Derek does, he joins Stiles by the window and the panorama takes his breath away.

From there, he can see all the hills surrounding them, every tree in the small woods right at the back of the house. He can also see some sort of elevated corridor that from the house leads to a terrace.

“Think the twins will be jealous?” Stiles grins, and Derek puffs sarcastically.

“Don’t let them see what you got here,” he says. “They might fight you for it.”

Derek is, of course, talking about the view from Stiles’ window. He knows Stiles knows it, but he also knows, the very minute the words leave his mouth, that he might be giving Stiles some sort of double meaning, here. Which, he did not intend to.

Stiles grins, _again_ , and Derek knows what the little fucker is thinking - _exactly_ what he didn’t want him to think.

“Oh, I think I’ll fight harder to keep it,” he says, and Derek maybe blushes a little. He’s not used to, well, _compliments_ , and it is pretty clear now Stiles is making him one. Just like the night in the car, but it was different then. He didn’t know Stiles much, and Stiles didn't know him _at all_. Also, Stiles was very drunk, so whatever thing he had said was probably just the alcohol talking.

But things between them are okay now, they’re cool, so there’s no real reason why Derek should feel embarrassed. Stiles is… _Stiles_ , and they’re not friends yet, but Derek knows they might get there, someday.

So, this is Stiles acting like an idiot to gain his friendship, and there’s nothing wrong with that.

Derek shakes his head, but he is smiling. Stiles has been spending too much time on his own lately, and he’s noticed - of course he has, he is their manager, it’s his _job_ to notice. It’s nice to see him joking and grinning again, now. It feels nice to see him smile, something changes in his eyes when he does.

“Get settled, Laura and I will meet you downstairs.”

Derek pats him on the shoulder and leaves the room, his whole body tingling with something that resembles happiness.

 

*

 

“I have an idea!” Scott yells after Laura is done telling them the do’s and don’t’s. “You guys should stay with us! At least for dinner?”

He looks expectantly at the two of them, and the twins look excited, too. Even Stiles is smiling as to give his consent, but Derek is not really sure that’s a good idea.

He likes the guys, he can admit that now, but that’s a band’s retreat, so it’s definitely not his place. As he turns to look at his sister, though, he finds her smiling softly at the boys.

“Sorry, I already have plans for tonight,” she says. “But Derek could stay, if he isn’t otherwise engaged.”

Derek stares at her, incredulous. He didn’t expect her to back Scott up on that idea, and for sure he didn’t expect her to bail on him while doing so.

“Derek?” Scott asks, his big chocolate eyes wide with expectation. “Please?”

“I… I don’t think –”

“You deserve some fun, brother,” Laura tells him as she puts on her jacket. “If you don’t have any plans, I think it’d be good for you to spend some time with the band. To bond, you know? That kind of stuff. You’re gonna take ‘em on tour, after all.”

Derek pretty much _glares_ at her, half turned so the guys can’t see exactly what’s going on between him and his sister.

“Yeah, Derek, it’ll be fun,” Ethan adds with a bright smile that promises nothing good, and really? Derek has no intention of staying just to babysit the four of them.

He had to drive the band up to the cabin, together with Laura, and then he could go home and relax. That was the plan. Staying with the boys wasn’t even expected of him, and he is maybe getting a little angry at his sister, now, for putting him in this situation.

He doesn’t want to tell the band he _doesn't want to spend time with them_ , because that’s not the exact truth. But he also doesn't want to stay if Laura is not, it’s just not fair for him to give up his quiet night in while his sister keeps whatever plan she’d first made.

“Laura, a word?”

Derek turns his back to the boys, ignoring whatever thing Stiles was going to say, and walks out the front door. His sister rolls her eyes to the ceiling, but she follows him to the porch with an annoyed look on her face.

“What the hell is wrong with you?” she asks bluntly to his face. “Why do you act all tense and stupid now?”

“Tense and stupid?” he says, disbelief clear in his voice. “Laura, I am their manager, that doesn't mean I have to take care of them every single instant of their life.”

“So that’s it? You don’t wanna stay? Then don’t! For God’s sake, Derek, what are you, twelve? I don’t know what’s gotten into you, but you gotta man up and –”

“You’re _forcing_ me to spend time with them!” he accuses her, and okay, maybe that’s not really fair. Maybe she is not _forcing_ him, more like suggesting, but it still feels like a constriction and he doesn't like it.

Laura looks like she wants to slap him in the face. She doesn’t, because she is a grown up and apparently can handle things better than he can; she steps closer to him and grabs him by the shoulders, forcing him to look at her.

“I would never, and you know it,” she says. “I just thought it was a good idea for you guys to spend some time together, that’s all. If you don’t wanna do it, then don’t. Nobody is making you do anything, here. I suggest you make up your mind, then maybe tomorrow come and tell me what the heck is going on with you.”

“There’s nothing going on with me,” he mutters, but she doesn’t believe him.

“Derek, I’m your sister. I know there’s something troubling you, I don’t know what it is, but I know it’s there. You kinda panicked, in there. And what for?”

Derek steps away from her and brushes his eyes with his hands. She is right. He panicked, and he has no idea why. The thought of spending the evening alone with the band somehow made him feel uncomfortable, and now that he thinks about it it’s just so stupid. Why would he feel uncomfortable with them? He knows them, he _likes_ them, so that makes no sense.

“You’re right,” Derek lets out in the end, and he turns to face her. “You’re right, I kinda overreacted. I’m just tired, that’s all.”

“You sure?” Laura asks. She steps closer to him, studying his face in search for any sign that could give him away. From the look in her eyes Derek can say she has found nothing - _yet_. Knowing her the way he does, he is pretty sure she will not let that go so easily.

“Yeah,” he says, and offers a smile.

“Maybe you should go home,” she says, hesitantly. “You need some rest, and –”

“I’m fine,” he interrupts her. “I’ll stay for dinner, just to make sure they don’t burn down the house.”

“Der, if you don’t want to –”

“Laura, I’m _fine_ ,” Derek says with an honest look in his eyes. “Promise.”

Laura looks doubtful for a moment, then she decides to believe him, at least for now. She puts her arms around his waist, so tight it almost hurt, and Derek hugs her back, kissing the top of her head.

“Don’t drive if you feel too tired,” she begs as she lets go of him. “Take a nap or something, don’t make me worry over you.”

“Yes, ma’am,” Derek jokes, and Laura makes a face at him before opening up in a real smile.

“Drive safe,” he tells her. “Text me when you get back to LA?”

Laura nods, and smiles, and tiptoes to kiss his cheek.

“Will do. Call if you need anything.”

When Derek smiles at her, she adds, “And say bye to the boys for me. I’ll see you tomorrow, little brother.”

Derek shakes his head as he always does when Laura calls him ‘little brother’. It is technically the truth, she is the eldest, but he grew up trying to protect her like every brother should do, he has always felt older, somehow.

But, well. Laura probably feels old, too. The tragic arson that had burnt their family alive left them alone and scared, it is no wonder they had felt the need to grow up all of a sudden. Derek was fifteen when it’d happened. He remembers coming down the stairs in a hurry, that morning, like every other morning when he and Laura had to go to school. He remembers his father sitting at the kitchen table with a cup of coffee in one hand and a newspaper in the other; he remembers his mother, so beautiful, giving him and Laura a packed lunch to bring with them to school. She didn’t like the food the cafeteria used to serve them, and she’d rather make them something good and healthy.

Derek remembers how he kissed his mother’s cheek, quickly and distractedly, before running out of the house to the car where his uncle Peter was already waiting for him. He remembers Laura being late, as always; he remembers her getting in the car and Peter driving away.

That was the last he’d seen his family alive. His little twin brothers, his two little sisters, his mom and dad… all of them, that had been the last time he’d seen them.

Derek’s heart squeezes painfully in his chest, and it takes him a couple of long moments before the pain backs down to a quieter one.

When it does, he walks back into the cabin only to find the boys muttering to each other. They stop as soon as they see him, and look a little uncertain.

“Laura says hi, she had to rush away,” he tells them, and he doesn’t miss their confused expressions. “She has also left you a ton of food in the cupboards and fridge, I think I can make a nice dinner out of it.”

Scott’s face lights up at those words, Derek notices, and Stiles, well. He doesn’t seem impressed. If only, he looks bothered.

“Awesome!” yells Aiden. “Let’s celebrate with a drink!”

 

*

 

An awesome pasta, an omelet, and several drinks later, Derek abandons the living room to bring the last dirty dishes to the kitchen.

Dinner was pleasant and nice, he has to admit. It’s been ages since he’s last had dinner with a group of friends, and he had almost forgotten what it felt like. The laughs, and screams, and insults; the relaxed atmosphere, the fun.

As he leaves the dirty dishes in the sink, he can hear laughter coming from the other room. Scott and the twins look like they’re having the time of their life, and Derek can only imagine how much worse (or better, depending on the point of view) it will be once they start the tour. Tour life is different, and tiring, but Derek knows it’s also incredibly amazing. Live shows almost every day, people screaming and dancing to the music. Fans waiting outside venues just to get a glimpse of the band, to ask for autographs and pictures. _The_ _Beacons_ are not too famous just yet, but they’ve had their dose of interviews and photo-shoots, Derek just knows there will be fans waiting for them.

Stiles has been weirdly quiet, though. He was all smiley and nice that same afternoon, but then he just - he just stopped, and Derek has no idea what that’s all about. He’s had dinner with them, exchanged a few words, but mostly he’s kept to himself.

Derek wonders if he’ll ever figure him out.

Stiles is… _Stiles_ , there’s no word to describe him. He is fun, and hyperactive, and quiet, and sometimes he looks like he feels out of place - and really, Derek would like to tell him that he’s not. Stiles _belongs_ to the band, he belongs to his guitar and his music, and there’s no other life that would suit him so well.

Derek would also like to know more about his tattoos, but that’s something he keeps to himself.

 

*

 

Scott and the twins are watching a movie, some horror film Derek has no interest in, so he wanders around the house to check everything is in order.

It’s just ten in the evening, and if Derek was younger, more carefree, he would probably think of staying a little longer, maybe have another drink. But there’s work tomorrow, and the week that awaits him looks like hell already.

As he checks upstairs, he notices the door to the outer corridor is ajar and there’s a light on in the terrace.

Derek walks outside, thinking that maybe the boys have just forgotten to shut the lights off and close the door, and when he gets to the terrace he is a little surprised to find Stiles there.

Stiles has sneaked out earlier that night, shortly after dinner, and while washing the dishes Derek has maybe wondered where he’d gone. Now he knows.

Stiles doesn’t notice him until he steps on the small terrace. He then looks up from a leather-bound diary he has on his lap, and closes the journal with a click.

“I was just checking nobody had forgotten the door open,” Derek says as if he feels the sudden need to apologize. “Didn’t mean to bother, sorry.”

“No bother,” Stiles says, and he even forces a smile on his face, but Derek sees how _fake_ that smile looks. So he steps closer and sits on the empty chair in front of him, taking a pack of cigarettes from his jeans pocket. He lights one up, and before he can say anything Stiles is stealing a cigarette from the pack. Derek shakes his head, but he lights Stiles’ cigarette without complaining.

“Aren’t you a little young to smoke?” he asks, and what? He is genuinely concerned, he’s Stiles’ manager after all.

Stiles shrugs as he exhales the smoke, and Derek stares at him for a moment.

“I might be young, but I’m technically an adult,” Stiles says. “So, yeah.”

Derek knows he’s right, of course. Stiles is, what? Twenty-one? Twenty-two? Technically an adult. It’s just - smoking is bad, Derek knows it, and okay, he smokes one cigarette from time to time, but, well. Stiles shouldn’t ruin his life so early, that’s all.

“Were you leaving?” Stiles asks out of the blue, and Derek nods.

“Got work tomorrow,” he says, and again, why does he feel like he has to apologize? What for? Maybe it has something to do with the little scene he has put up, before Laura left the cabin. He knows the guys noticed his - unjustified - reaction, and he knows they might have felt a little uncomfortable after that, but the atmosphere had relaxed almost immediately, and anyway he doesn’t have to apologize, he’s done nothing wrong.

“Okay,” Stiles says, then he falls silent again. He starts distractedly caressing the journal in his hands, and Derek notices it looks a little old. The pages, from what he can see, are yellowed by the passing time, and look full of writing. There’s something like a picture, exactly in the middle, and Derek wonders who is in there. Must be someone special if Stiles wants to keep it close.

“How about one last drink, before I go?” Derek suggests, and really, maybe he is just feeling a little guilty, _but he doesn’t have to apologize_.

Stiles turns his attention to him again, and there’s something behind his eyes Derek can’t quite get. Is it sadness? Is it nostalgia, like the one he caught a glimpse of in the car?

“Sure.”

“I’ll be right back, then,” Derek says as he puts out the cigarette and stands. “Anything you fancy?”

Stiles shrugs. “Whatever you’re drinking.”

Derek nods and turns his back to him, walking inside the house and down the stairs that lead to the kitchen. He finds beers in the fridge, and plain vodka to mix with those disgusting energy drinks. He then looks to his right and finds some bottles of wine, red and white, and two bottles of Jack Daniel’s. He grabs one, two whiskey glasses from the cupboard under the sink, and hurries back to the terrace where Stiles is waiting for him, lost in thoughts.

Derek almost thinks of waiting a couple of more seconds before walking up to him. The kid is looking at something inside his journal and it seems so private, so intimate, Derek just doesn't want to barge in and destroy that little moment.

But Stiles then looks up, as if alerted by his presence, and puts the journal away in a quick move. He gives Derek a little smile, the first real one since before dinner, and Derek maybe feels a little better, a little less guilty, even if he has no proof Stiles’ mood had been affected by his little scene.

“You’re not driving, so whiskey it is,” he says as he sits back down on the chair and pours the alcohol in the glasses.

“But you are,” Stiles counteracts, raising an eyebrow at him. “You sure you should drink that?”

“I’ll be fine,” Derek smiles, offering him the drink. “It’s just one glass.”

“If you say so.”

They drink in silence for a while, and Derek notices for the first time that night how nice the sky looks, without city lights ruining it. It’s dark, lightened up by the stars, and it reminds him of Beacon Hills, where he could see this exact sky in between the tree branches. He used to sneak out to the preserve surrounding his house, at night, and just look at the stars. He loved it, that sense of infinity that overwhelmed him whenever he did so, and he felt so small, so insignificant, it was almost scary.

When he smiles, a nostalgic smile, Stiles looks at him with a questioning look in his eyes and Derek shrugs.

“I was thinking of home,” he says, simply. “Of the night sky, back there. It’s different in Los Angeles.”

“I get it,” Stiles sighs, and he drinks up his whiskey in one gulp. “It’s different where I come from. More beautiful.”

And there it is again, that melancholy that hides in Stiles’ eyes and makes his voice tremble a little as he speaks. Derek can understand, really. He knows how hard it is to be far from home, far from the only place that makes you feel warm and safe. He has left Beacon Hills because his uncle wanted to move away - he could understand that, he could, but Beacon Hills was _home_ , and he misses it still. He’s never been brave enough to go back, but that’s different.

“Do you miss it?” Derek asks, even if he already knows the answer. Stiles smiles again, and he looks sad, and happy, and proud all together. He refills his glass, then offers more whiskey to Derek, and he accepts.

“Every day,” Stiles says. “It’s just a small town, you know, but it’s -“

“Home,” Derek finishes for him, and nods. “Yeah, I know.”

They spend the next few minutes in silence, of the comfortable sort. Derek likes this even more than the dinner with the whole group, it’s quieter, more intimate. It’s just the two of them and the night sky, the fresh air and no empty words to fill it with.

Derek maybe glances at the “ _ever_ ” he sees coming out of Stiles’ t-shirt, and if Stiles notices, he doesn’t say.

**Author's Note:**

> So, this is it, first chapter. Hope you liked it, and see you next time!
> 
> xx
> 
> C


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